| Systematic Rhythmatic Mic Control |
[Oct. 8th, 2009|03:37 pm] |
They can smell it, you know. When something's rehearsed. They know. Everyone knows. If your frontman says the same jokes, introduces the songs the same way, they can all tell. If I play on auto pilot, if I'm not in that moment, they feel it. It's manufactured and plastic. Corporate. Official.
Those colors you represented, those blood reds and deep blacks...they fade. And you don't ignite that spark the audience is looking for you to spark.
And so, during our weekly show at Doc Watson's Pub, we don't usually plan a full set list. We wing it, decide what song to play based on the feel of the crowd. This is largely E's job. As the Master Of Ceremonies, he feels the heartbeat behind the eyes of the anonymous, and asks Chop and I for a flow to counter it, to vibe with it, to shine in it's light.
Sometimes it's a slower song. Sometimes harder, sometimes groovier. Sometimes we just jam, and completely freestyle it. And sometimes, it's something completely different.
Like last night.
We had decided prior that we'd open with Censorship, and Follow up with Lost In The Darkness. For the remainder of the show, we would do our normal on the spot changeup.
I was picking my electric back up when E comes over, throws his arm around my shoulder.
"You know..." He starts... "I want to take a moment to talk about my guitarist, Culebra."
He goes on to talk about my skills, saying how impressed he is. Tells them that they never get to hear me be....me. They only hear me as a guitarist for ConcreteGrass, where I handle basslines, rhythm, and lead at the same time.
"So tonight, I just want to step aside and let my guitarist play a solo for you."
I see Chop step out from behind the drums, walk off stage. E's nephew, a drummer his whole life, quietly steps up and takes his place.
"Let 'em have it, Culebra."
And he walks off.
The bar was packed. And the darkness of the bar returned to me many expectant eyes. Truth is, I had no clue what to play. My mind scanned my mental rolodex of aquired melodies and songs. I lean into the mic.
"Oh, Imma make you pay for this..."
Giggles ripple through the bar.
"Ok, well...like he said, this wasn't planned, and I have absolutely no idea what to play for you all, so...here goes."
Now, a little backstory real quick...I use Doc Watson's as my benchmark. Since I play there every Wednesday, I make it a point to learn and perfect at least one new skill every week. That way I can slowly close that gap of experience and myself. Just one more trick a week...one more sound, one more ability.
We'd been off for two weeks due to a fever working it's way through the whole band, but that didn't mean I stopped practicing. I've been busy learning all these scales, and combining and refining them. In doing so, I've managed to compose a piece that uses the whole neck of the guitar. It's essentially a giant, five minute solo.
Standing on that stage, my mind was at a loss. A total blank. But I wasn't nervous or anything. Just, at a loss. I started playing some slow, bullshit melody that I wasn't really feeling. Noone was either, it seemed. The only sound in the place was my slow, pitiful tune.
I don't know when it clicked, as I slowly raised my tempo. And all that shit I'd been working on for two weeks revealed itself to me. I figured what the hell, and went with it.
I got lost in it, my funky little solo. I remember hearing the first BOP! of the drums behind me, as E's nephew started playing along. We synched up well, and quick. The driving beat made me speed up, made me play it harder.
The whole thing was a blur, really. I remember the crowd surging forward, standing at the base of the stage. I remember the cheers...the people clapping when I went low and fast on the neck. I remember Joe (MC of Doc's) hopping on stage with a percussion instrument, other artists grabbing something and playing along.
And before I knew it, it was over. People were walking up to me, saying how awesome that solo was. Other guitarists telling me how sick that was. I can't quite explain it right now, how surreal it felt.
But I will say this...it was two very important firsts for me. One, it was the first time I'd ever taken center stage without my band backing me. And two...it was the first time when I can honestly say, looking back on it, that I felt that gap closing. It was like I'd just graduated lead guitar school, and was about to move onto college.
Sweet justification for all the work I've put into this. Now...onto the next lesson...
---One day, I'll unleash Hell and blind myself with the light.
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